


prove i'm all right song

by memorysdaughter



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Craven Edge, Sarenrae, that sword is bad news
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-22 23:04:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6096904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorysdaughter/pseuds/memorysdaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pike talks to Grog about Craven Edge.  It goes badly.</p><p>Set after the return to Emon but prior to the Chroma Conclave's attacks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	prove i'm all right song

Pike sits, legs crossed, in the temple of Sarenrae.  It’s early morning and she’s supposed to be meditating, much as she does every morning, but her mind is wandering too much.  She can’t concentrate, and she’s not sure what’s bothering her.

She looks up at the icon of Sarenrae. “I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I feel like there’s something I’m missing.”

She’s not expecting an answer, and there isn’t one.  Pike sighs and closes her eyes again, trying to find her center.

Just as she manages to get her mind focused, she hears voices from the hallway – Vax and Vex.

“I’m telling you, someone needs to talk to him about it.”

“I thought you talked to him about it.”

“No.  I mean, I may have said something, but he didn’t listen.”

“And you want _me_ to talk to him?”

“No, no, of course not.  I just… I’m worried.”

“What about…?” Vex trails off.

A pause before Vax answers. “She just came home, just saved our lives yet again in Whitestone.  Is it really fair to ask her…?”

Another pause, and then Vex speaks. “They’ve been together longer than any of us.  They know each other.  He listens to her, you know that.  If you’re really worried…”

“I am.”

“… then she’s your best bet.  She can get through to him.”

Pike waits, but there’s nothing else.  Then she feels someone enter the temple behind her, walk carefully up to her, and sit down next to her. “Hello, Vax,” she says.

“I apologize if I’m interrupting.”

Pike sighs and opens her eyes. “No, you’re not interrupting anything.  I can’t seem to find my focus this morning.”

She turns to face him. “Who were you talking to Vex about?”

Vax looks a little embarrassed. “You.”

“Well, I figured that,” Pike says, rolling her eyes. “And… Grog, I’m assuming.”

Vax nods. “He needs help.  With… the sword issue.  I’m worried he’s going to hurt someone, and the way things are now, we can’t afford to lose anyone.”

Pike looks up at the icon of Sarenrae again.  She hears a voice in the base of her skull.  _He needs you.  You are My light in the darkness, and this is very dark indeed._

Before she can open her mouth to respond, a vision sweeps her.

_Grog.  Face in rage.  The sword, that terrible dark sword, in his hand._

_Vox Machina, weapons drawn.  Voices raised, unable to make out what’s being said._

_Grog bringing the sword down with a yell.  Blaze of sharp blue light._

_Pike rushing in front of her best friend, unarmed for some reason, arms glowing, screaming for him to stop._

_And then darkness and a voice in her head: “He was yours once, but he’s mine now.”_

“Pike?” There’s a hand on her shoulder.

She shudders and tries to slow her racing heart. “I’m… I’m all right.  Just…”

“A vision?” Vax asks.

Pike nods. “It was…”

She shakes her head, unable to speak the vision aloud for fear it will come true. “I need to go talk to him.”

Vax helps her to her feet. “It will be all right.”

 _I wish that was true_ , Pike thinks, but she nods at Vax. 

* * *

Grog spends much of his free time in the kitchen, so Pike heads there.  Sure enough, Grog’s sitting at the table with a loaf of bread, a plate of scrambled eggs, and a tankard of what Pike’s hoping is coffee but is pretty sure is ale.

She boosts herself up on the chair next to him and hops from there to the table so she can look him in the face. “Hi, buddy.”

Grog looks over. “Mornin’,” he says, his mouth full of bread and eggs. “Wan’ some eggsh?”

Pike smiles. “No, thanks.  I had some oatmeal before I went to clean the temple.”

“Oatmeal.” Grog snorts in derision. “That’s not real breakfast.”

It’s a common debate between them, and Pike only shakes her head. “It’s enough for me.”

For a moment she just sits there, watching him.  Is it her imagination, or is there something in his eyes – something darker – as he looks at her?

“Grog,” Pike says at last.

“Hrmm?”

“You know your sword?”

“Craven – I mean… my sword?”

Pike nods.

“What about it?”

“Do you think there’s anything… strange about it?”

Grog’s face darkens. “No,” he mutters.

“It’s not… hurting you in any way, is it?”

“’S a sword.”

“I know, but…” Pike trails off.  She bites her lip. “Grog, you trust me, don’t you?”

His head snaps up. “Of course I do.  With my own life.  Trust you to save mine.  Trust you more’n anybody else ‘round here.  _Care_ about you more’n anyone else ‘round here.”

“And I trust you in the same way,” Pike says. “With that trust in mind… can I hold the sword?”

His expression of earnest honesty turns immediately to near-rage. “No!  No!  You can’t do that.  Can’t just… _hold_ him!”

Grog freezes. “It!  Can’t hold _it!”_

He shoves back from the table. “Don’t talk to me about this again.”

“Or what, Grog?” Pike asks.  Her insides are shaking but she forces her voice to remain steady. “You said you trust me.  That you care about me.  I don’t like… I don’t like what the sword is doing to you, and I want to understand it better, so if I could hold it…”

Grog interrupts her. “It’s not _doing_ anything to me!  It’s a fucking _sword!_   Stay away from me, and _don’t talk about it!”_

Pike tries to say something, but Grog storms out of the kitchen before she can get anything out.

She buries her head in her hands.

Vax finds her in the kitchen a short time later, and he immediately sits down next to her, wrapping his arms around her. “It’ll be all right.”

“He is my best friend,” Pike sobs into his shoulder. “He is my best friend and I care about him so much.  I can’t bear to see him hurt.  Why won’t he talk to me?”

“I don’t know,” Vax says gently. “We have to try again.”

Pike snuffles and pulls back from Vax.  She tucks her hair behind her ears. “Okay.  We’ll try again.”

She sighs. “Um, but if you’ll excuse me, I think the first thing I’ll try again is my meditation.”

* * *

Late that night Pike, unable to sleep, finds herself drawn back to the temple.  In bare feet, her night shift flowing gently around her body, she lights the candles and kneels in front of the altar.  The candle flames flicker off the stained glass windows and the temple, soft and warm around her, finally feels like a place she can center herself.

 _Tell me what to do_ , she says to Sarenrae.

The candles flicker, flames pulsing against the windows, and Pike feels drowsy.

Then the voice speaks.  _Show him._

_Show him what?_

_Show him you won’t leave him.  That you’re stronger than the darkness in that sword._

Pike closes her eyes and murmurs a soft prayer of thanks and a short prayer for guidance.  When she finishes she blows out the candles.  She’s unsurprised to see a soft glow radiating up from her holy symbol.

On her way back down the hallway she hears a low voice coming from Grog’s quarters.  She stops in the corridor, getting as close as she dares to the partially-opened door.

“I don’t know what to tell you.  I know you want blood but there’s no fight right now, and that’s good, right?”

Pause.

“Well, yeah, of course it’s good.  My friends aren’t in danger.  _I’m_ not in danger.”

Pause.

“No.  They are my friends.  They fight alongside me.”

Pause.

“No!  That’s not true.”

Slightly longer pause.

When Grog speaks again his voice shakes. “That can’t… that can’t be true.  No.  Not true.”

Pause.

“You don’t know her!  That isn’t who she is!”

Pause.

“You saw her fight the undead in Whitestone!  Sometimes I think she’s more powerful than all of us put together, and…”

He stops as though interrupted.

Pike pushes a little further towards the door.  Grog mutters something.

“Grog?” Pike asks hesitantly, and she opens the door.

He whips towards her and Pike takes a step back in fear.  His face is contorted in an expression she’s never seen, and it shakes her to her core. “Grog?” she repeats, voice wobbly.

“You were listening?” His voice is steely with rage. “You think you can just stand at doors and listen to private conversations?”

“Who were you talking to?” Pike feels her hand move up to clutch her holy symbol.

“Nobody,” Grog mutters.

“It sounded pretty serious.”

“I said it was nobody!” he thunders, and he steps towards her menacingly. “Now get out of here!”

The feeling of her fingers around the symbol gives her some sort of courage. “Please, Grog, just talk to me.  Who were you talking to?”

“ _Nobody!”_ he roars, and before she realizes what’s happening he’s drawn his sword.

“Grog,” Pike manages to get out.  It takes her a split second to realize he’s absolutely serious about fighting her, and before she can stop herself she screams.

Lanterns flare and footsteps rush towards Grog’s room.  Pike can’t take her eyes off Grog, heart in her throat, though she knows the rest of Vox Machina assembles around her.  Her position in the half-opened doorway is going to make it difficult for any of them to use any of their weapons, though, and even spells might have a difficult time.  It might just be him against her, and she’s not dumb enough to think she’s got a chance.

“Grog, you don’t want to do this,” Vex says, her voice low and firm. “You don’t want to hurt Pike.”

“She meddles,” Grog grunts. “Doesn’t need to be meddling anymore.”

Pike wants to throw up.  This isn’t her friend. “Please, Grog,” she breathes.

He keeps the sharp point of the sword focused on her.

“Grog, Pike’s important to us,” Scanlan says, and Pike hears something in his voice, something gently trying to convince Grog. “She’s important to you.  You’re not going to hurt her.”

“Don’t tell me what I'll do,” Grog barks at Scanlan.

“She trusts you, Grog,” Percy says. “Don’t betray that trust.”

“She’s already betrayed me,” Grog says with a disdainful laugh. “One good turn deserves another.”

“Grog, please,” Keyleth says. “We can’t fight amongst ourselves.”

“No, ‘cause you’d all lose,” Grog snorts.

He takes another step towards Pike, until the sword’s point is mere inches from her chest.

Out of the corner of her eye Pike sees a strange light, and she turns her head a fraction of an inch.  Her arms are glowing.   _The vision._

And before she can turn her attention back to Grog, she feels wind rush past her face as the sword goes up.

“Grog, _no!”_ she screams at him.

There’s a flare of blue light.  Her arms go up instinctually; blue light meets golden and she hears a voice in her head, a deep maniacal laugh.  _I want blood, and blood I shall have.  I’ve never had a cleric’s blood before.  Let me see how you taste, sweet child of the light._

Then there’s just pain, and darkness.

* * *

Pike wakes with fire burning her chest.  She cries out, and immediately there’s a cool hand on her forehead. “Pike, it’s all right,” Keyleth says quietly. “Squeeze my hand.”

Pike squeezes the proffered hand and hot tears roll down her cheeks. “What… where…?”

“You’re in your room,” Keyleth replies. “You’ve been in and out for the past couple of days.”

Pike reaches up with her free hand and touches her chest.  She feels bandages and heat radiating from her body. “What…?”

“You have a fever,” Keyleth answers, somehow anticipating the end of her question. “An infection in your wounds.  The sword…”

She shakes her head. “The sword was bad news.”

“I know,” Pike rasps.  Her head feels heavy. “Fix it?”

Keyleth nods. “We’ve sent for Allura.  She’ll be here soon.  She’ll be able to take care of it.”

Pike closes her eyes. “Hot.”

“I know.  We’re trying to keep you cool, I promise.”

“Grog?” Pike asks hesitantly.

Keyleth hesitates.

Pike opens her eyes. “Tell me,” she says, voice a little stronger.

“He’s back,” Keyleth says. “Torn up with grief about what happened.  He hasn’t slept since it happened.”

“Oh,” Pike says, her heart breaking. “I just wanted…”

She can’t find the words to finish her sentence, and she closes her eyes again.

“I know,” Keyleth says. “It’s what we all wanted.”

Pike mumbles something, and as she drifts back into the waiting darkness, she feels cool drops, druid-conjured rain, against her boiling body.

* * *

When she wakes again she’s still burning, but her hot hand is cupped in a much larger, much colder one.

“Grog?” she croaks.

His voice is full of tears, something she’s never heard. “Yeah, little buddy?”

“You tried as hard as you could,” Pike says, unsure of where the words are coming from.

“No, I didn’t try at all,” Grog answers, his voice choked. “I let it… I let it tell me whatever it wanted.”

Pike turns her head.  Her friend sits next to her bed, his head bowed. “You tried,” she insists. “You could have killed me.”

Grog shakes his head hard. “Couldn’t let him do that to you.”

“And for that I am grateful,” Pike tells him. “Also, your hand is very cold.”

Grog brings his head up. “Stuck it in a bucket of cold water first.”

“It’s delightful,” she says.

“And I’m s’posed to put some cool cloths on you,” Grog says. “Keyleth’s directions.”

“That also sounds nice,” Pike says.  She’s getting drowsy again.

Grog releases her hand and moves away from the bed briefly.  When he returns he places wet cloths on her forehead, arms, and chest. “Better?”

She nods hazily. “Grog?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re my best friend.”

“You’re _my_ best friend,” Grog says, and she sees tears in his eyes.  He takes her hand again.

“And I forgive you.”

Grog ducks his head and Pike knows he’s crying.  She squeezes his fingers and slides back into sleep.  As she drops down she hears his voice, close to her ear. “Love you, little buddy.”


End file.
